


Home Is Where the Heart Is

by IcyPanther



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Langst, Missing Scene, Platonic Relationships, Sad Lance (Voltron), post season seven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyPanther/pseuds/IcyPanther
Summary: Lance had been missing his family for a little over a year. They had been missing him for almost four.  Lance tried not to think on the logistics of it all that much. He loved them, they loved him and what was important was that he was home and they could be together again. But it wasn’t so simple. He’d changed. They’d changed. And figuring out where he fit into the family now was one problem he had not seen coming.





	Home Is Where the Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

> **Timeline notes:** Set directly after season 7  
>  **Warning notes:** None

Lance felt like he was in a dream. He kept waiting for the bubble to burst, for reality to come crashing back in where he’d wake up and space would greet him through Red’s cockpit window and the warmth of Earth’s sun, of Mamá’s hug, of Papá’s hand on his shoulder would scatter like the stars rushing by.

He’d dreamed for so long of coming home. Of thunderstorms and rain. Of his siblings’ infectious smiles, their gentle teasing and coddling.

And now he was here.

He was back on Earth.

With his _family._

It was no longer a dream. It was real.

He was _home._

Granted, the white walls of the Galaxy Garrison Hospital weren’t fresh Arizona air and sunshine and other than the big gathering of his family when he’d first woken up visitors had been sparse as they all had things to do, places to be, and the hospital staff was very strict on visiting hours to maintain a semblance of order in a post-invasion world.

But still.

Home.

A dream come true.

A sharp knock sounded on the door and Lance jerked his head up from where he’d been idly trying to draw a get well card for Allura with the crayons Nadia had left behind.

His youngest older brother’s head poked around the doorframe with a wide, lanky grin.

“Marco!” Lance matched it.

He and Marco had always been close; both with an incurable love of pranks and adventure and _que_ _será será_ attitude that drove Veronica and Luis up a wall when they were younger. Marco may have been seven years older than him but—

Lance paused the thought.

Marco _had_ been seven years older. He was nearly eleven now.

That…

That was still hard to swallow.

Lance had been missing his family for a little over a year.

They had been missing him for almost four.

Lance tried not to think on the logistics of it all that much. He loved them, they loved him and no matter what he would always be their younger brother.

“Lancito,” Marco greeted and yup, there it was. Lance had been waiting for it and the gently teasing nickname only made him grin, widening as Marco crossed to his bedside in a few steps and cornered him in a headlock to ruffle his hair.

“Ow ow ow,” Lance protested without any heat, batting half-heartedly at Marco’s arms and chest.

He was in the hospital not for any real injuries but more as a safety precaution. He still didn’t get why Shiro, who had been far more involved in the fighting and had been _running around on top of a ship fighting Sendak with no helmet_ wasn’t also confined to bedrest, but given that all of his fellow Paladins were he hadn’t raised any protest.

He still couldn’t wait to go home. Or, well, the small barracks assigned to his family on the Garrison campus.

“What is that?” Marco was distracted by Lance’s drawing on his lap. “An alien?”

“What? No! It’s me.”

Marco snorted and releasing Lance scooped up the paper. “Uh uh, if this was you your chin needs to be _way_ pointier. And is this for that alien princess you were making eyes at?” Lance felt his face flame. Marco laughed. “I think it needs some hearts then too.”

“Marco, no,” Lance weakly protested as Marco grabbed a crayon and held it and the drawing aloft and out of his reach.

His brother let out another laugh and handed Lance back the drawing that he clutched protectively to his chest, shooting a glare at Marco that was negated by his still hot cheeks. “Aw, Lancito,” Marco leaned over and ruffled his hair again. “I didn’t come here to offer my artistic talents.”

“What talent?” Lance grumbled, well aware Marco was also of the stick-figure drawing variety. Rachel was the artist of the family and no one intruded on her turf.

“Ha ha,” Marco deadpanned. He sobered then, looking a touch nervous. “I actually came by as I want you to meet someone.”

Lance cocked his head.

This sounded important.

Marco had been a bit of a serial dater to Mamá’s displeasure and he was always sending Lance photos of his “girl of the week,” who were all generally model-worthy with faces so full of makeup and hair perfectly styled that Lance accused Marco of taking pictures with mannequins.

“Nicole,” Marco called and clearly waiting for the summons a young woman stepped into the room. She was in a Galaxy Garrison uniform, the ones used by the tech analysts, with blonde hair pulled into a messy bun and face free of product and instead covered in a spattering of freckles. She was pretty in a soft, gentle way but not Marco’s typical type.

“Um, hi,” Lance lifted a hand in greeting as she slowly moved into the room, flats instead of heels silent on the tile.

“Nicole, Lance. Lance… this is Nicole. My wife.”

Lance blinked.

And blinked again.

What?

“What?” he croaked, eyes darting between the two of them as Marco took Nicole’s hand in his. “You’re _married? You?”_

“Hey!” Marco swatted his shoulder.

Lance hurriedly amended, turning to his brother’s _wife,_ “That wasn’t aimed at you, by the way. I, just, um… Hello?”

She let out a soft laugh. “Hello. It’s so good to meet you, Lance. I, I know this is probably a little overwhelming since you just got back, but—”

“No, no,” Lance waved a hand even though _yes, Dios_ yes, _Marco_ was _married?_ “I’m just… well, I guess congratulations, first. I’m sorry I missed the wedding.”

“We haven’t had one yet,” Marco said. “Well, not a reception. Not even rings,” his eyes cut to Nicole’s hand laced tenderly with his own. “Kind of hard to do when there’s an invasion.”

“But we don’t need any of that,” Nicole said gently, firmly, as though this was something that came up often. “We’re happy just as we are.”

Marco nodded and Lance tried very hard not to gape.

This…

This was not what he’d expected.

“So, uh, how did you two meet?” he found his words again.

Marco and Nicole launched into a tale of Marco getting lost on base when they’d first come aboard and how she had found him and offered him a tour and then they’d both gotten lost because she’d just moved onto base barely a week before the invasion and—-

Lance smiled and nodded and laughed and he was so _happy_ for Marco, but…

But there was a part of him that wondered with a sick, clenching twist just how much more was going to be different. How much had they changed?

How…

How much had he?

xxx

Two days later Lance was cleared from the hospital and Mamá and Luis had come to pick him up and take him to their current quarters.

Lance was reminded again of how different things were as he stepped through the door.

It was small, that was the same as home of before. But where home had always been cramped and cozy the Garrison barracks felt too modern, too bare. There were no framed family photographs plastering the walls (they’d had to leave them behind, Mamá said softly, only able to take the essentials when they’d fled, but they did bring the family photo album and Lance had teared up), no faded floral couch to flop onto, no jars of canned peppers or decorative cacti or yellow kitchen tile highlighting old white appliances.

There were two levels with downstairs being the living quarters and a bedroom that Luis, Lisa and the kids had taken over while upstairs there were three more: Mamá and Papá in one, Rachel in another (and Lance had been told he’d be sharing with her) and Marco (and now Nicole) in the third. Veronica had officer quarters elsewhere on campus.

But the scent of spices was familiar as was the too-large table crammed into the dining room and everyone gathered around it or in the kitchen.

“Tío Lance!” screeched Nadia, tossing aside the napkins she had been setting the table with as Luis bellowed out a hello and every eye turned towards the front door. Lance had only a second to brace himself as Nadia — six now, two and toddling when he left and he couldn’t believe she remembered him — threw herself at his legs and Sylvio — almost ten, _Dios,_ wow had he grown up — latched onto his side and then the rest of the family was moving to surround him in a giant group hug just like his arrival back on Earth.

Lance leaned into all of the touches and pets, laughing and trying to return each hug and hair ruffle and _basking_ in his family all around him.

Just like old times.

With a lot more random group hugs.

He was fine with this change.

Mamá eventually ushered them all to the table, Lance squashed in between Rachel and Luis, and revealed dinner with a flourish of a large pot: black bean chili, Esposito family recipe style.

Lance could feel his mouth water and his groan of delight was apparently audible as everyone was laughing then and Rachel punched him fondly in the shoulder.

Lance had been told that supplies were still very scarce and most meals were of the Garrison-cafeteria style of pre-packed and freeze-dried and so he hadn’t been expecting _anything_ like this and could feel his eyes watering now too.

“I, I thought you said only essentials,” he choked out, meeting Mamá’s gentle gaze.

“Food is essential,” she smiled.

“So are her spices,” Luis nudged Lance. “I would know. I had to carry the whole spice rack all the way here.”

“Psh,” Marco scoffed. “I had to carry Rachel’s shoe collection because of course multiple pairs of heels are essential to survival.”

“Because the are!” Rachel shot back. “Besides I had to carry the blankets!”

“ _I_ had to carry a three-year-old,” Lisa interrupted and all around Lance his siblings conceded defeat even as Nadia protested, “I wasn’t that bad!” and Marco yanked gently on her pigtail in response.

“Now, now,” Mamá called their attention back. “It is time we eat. Rachel has been hard at—”

“Rachel?” Lance interrupted. “Rachel _cooked?”_

His niece and nephew giggled while Rachel mock-scowled at him.

Rachel was not as bad as Shiro in the kitchen ( _no one_ was as bad as Shiro) but her skills were much to be desired last Lance knew.

“I’ve gotten better,” she defended but Lance was having none of it, spurred on by Sylvio and Nadia’s giggles and even Marco’s huff of laughter.

“Oh no. _Dios mío._ Oh no no no.”

“Lance,” a vein ticked on Rachel’s forehead. “I can cook now. I swear it.”

“Are we sure these are black beans and not coffee beans? Did anyone check to make sure she actually cooked the meat?” Lance overrode her.

“One time!” Rachel protested weakly. “I served it raw _one time.”_

“Did she use sugar instead of salt again?” Veronica teased.

“Or add sand for texture?” Marco put in.

“Guys,” Rachel moaned, head in her hands as everyone laughed.

“Just saying, Rachel,” Lance nudged her this time. “Your track record is nothing to brag about. I vote you eat it first, just to be safe.”

“Lance,” she growled even though he could see she was trying not to laugh.

“I’d really prefer not to die again,” Lance winked at her. “I just got back and—”

The noisy table fell silent and looks of fond amusement turned to widened, horrified eyes.

What?

What had he said?

“You died, Tío Lance?” Nadia asked, voice small and tears building in the corners of her eyes.

“I, um,” he floundered.

“You died?” Luis repeated it, hand white-knuckled around the spoon he’d just been using to playfully rap over Sylvio’s knuckles.

“It’s, it’s fine,” Lance rushed out. “I’m okay, see?” He held out his arms as though that proved something. “Not even a mark. Allura brought me back and—”

Nadia let out a sob and Lance broke off.

He was making this worse.

_Dios._

Lance had gotten so used  to sharing (near)death experiences on a regular basis,  turning them into something to laugh about if only to keep from thinking too hard on what it was that had actually happened that he hadn’t even…

Hadn’t even thought about what it would sound like here.

“We, we joke about stuff like that all the time,” he tried to explain.

“It’s not funny, Lance,” Veronica said, and although her tone was hard there was something breaking in her expression.

_Dios._

What had he just done?

“Lance, _mijo,”_ Mamá whispered.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, hoping everyone else didn’t hear the waver in his voice. “ _Lo siento._ Sorry. I, I don’t know why I thought that was funny. _Lo siento mucho.”_

Everyone was still staring.

Nadia was still crying.

Mamá still looked horrified.

“I’m sorry,” Lance repeated. “I’ll just, um…” He stood abruptly from the table, chair squeaking on the metal floors. “I’m gonna go out. For a bit. Um, enjoy dinner. I’m sure it tastes great, Rachel. I’m… I’m sorry for ruining it.”

“Lance, wait,” Rachel reached out a hand, fingertips brushing his arm.

But Lance was already retreating.

He had to go.

There was no spot for him at that table anymore.

xxx

Lance had no choice but to return that evening as he had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t stay at the hospital, wouldn’t intrude on the small quarters set aside for the Alteans, didn’t want to bother Hunk who had just been reunited with his parents that morning or the Holts as this was Pidge’s first night out of the hospital too and he had no idea where Shiro and Keith were and he didn’t want to bother them in any case either.

Besides, they were his family and he loved them and they loved him.

He let himself in near quietly with the keycard provided to him although the soft beep sounded like a gunshot in the silence.

It didn’t matter though as everyone was sitting in the main room apparently waiting up for him.

Lance faltered on the threshold.

Before he could back up though Mamá was rushing forward and pulling him into a hug and Papá was there, hands behind on his shoulders and keeping Lance sandwiched between his parents.

“ _No vuelvas a hacer eso_ ,” Mamá whispered. “ _No huyas de tu familia.”_

_“Lo sien—”_

_“Y no más disculpas,”_ Papá interrupted. _“No más,_ Lance.”

Lance managed a nod, throat thick.  

That was apparently code for everyone in for a group hug again.

This time though…

This time it just felt sad.

And Lance knew he was the only one to blame.

xxx

Lance had been back at “home” for two days now, settling in as best he could and trying to remember what it was like to share a single, cramped bathroom, to navigate a small house of people living atop one another, to have kids underfoot and, most of all, to not make offhand comments about fighting (and most definitely not about dying or being hurt).

They knew he’d done it, just as Veronica did.

That was all there was to say about it.

Some things were okay to talk about, he discovered. Piloting and space and the Lions and all the different worlds and alien cultures he’d encountered were safe.

But shooting? Sniping? Sentries and infiltrations and close calls?

No.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

And Lance understood. The invasion had hurt his family, had destroyed the world. To know their son, still a baby to them and even moreso now, had been up there fighting, dying, _killing…_ it was too much.

And he never wanted to see Mamá’s tears like that again.

He couldn’t do that to them.

So he’d bitten his tongue and kept quiet.

But…

But he couldn’t hold back from asking about this one particular thing anymore.

And with all of his siblings out of the house — various Garrison assigned jobs — and Papá with his grandchildren at the “park” down the street and Lance without anything still to do (rest, the Garrison told him, as the Paladins of Voltron would be called upon soon enough once the Lions (being overseen by Coran) were repaired — Lance knew this would be the best time to ask.

Hopefully.

“Mamá?” he hedged gently, stepping into the kitchen where Mamá was just finishing drying the oatmeal pot from breakfast.

“ _Mijo_ ,” she smiled at him over her shoulder. Her expression sobered as she took in his. “ _¿Qué pasa?_ ” she asked gently.

“Um,” Lance twisted his fingers in the overly large cuff of the jacket Marco had given him, all of his clothes that had been at the Garrison having been shipped home and his family hadn’t taken any of them when they’d fled and he hadn’t had time to grab any clothes from the castle before it exploded.

Mamá gently wrapped a hand about his wrist and tugged. Lance followed.

The gray faux leather couch was nothing like the floral cloth one of home, but Mamá patted the cushion next to her all the same with her other hand and Lance joined her.

“ _Habláme,”_ she said softly.

 _“¿Dónde…”_ Lance swallowed thickly, _“dónde está_ Abuela _?”_

Abuelo had passed a couple months before Lance had gone back to his third year at Galaxy Garrison, but Abuela… Lance had last seen her not even two weeks before he’d gone to space as she and Mamá and Lisa had come by to celebrate Veronica’s birthday with homemade panetela. She’d been in good health then, still a little frail from Abuelo’s death, but she was a strong woman (all of the ladies in his family were, Papá always said, and you did not mess with them) and Lance vividly remembered her pinching his cheek before planting a kiss on it when he’d told her that her panetela was better than Mamá’s _and_ Hunk’s.

Abuela had been a part of his life since he could remember, living with them when they had been in Cuba and then, a few years after his immediate family had come to America, moving in just down the street after she convinced Abuelo to make the journey ( _vaca obstinada,_ she’d always mutter to insult Abuelo with and Lance had thought it was the funniest thing ever).

Lance, as her youngest grandchild, had a special place in her heart and he had always cherished their relationship. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d fallen asleep on her lap as she told him stories, fingers carding through his hair, or how she had listened to him prattle on about the stars and how one day he would fly up there with them. _Mi estrellito,_ my little star, she always called him no matter how big he grew. _No puedo esperar a verte volar._

“Oh, Lance _,”_ Mamá murmured and her hand moved to clasp his while her other came up to brush his cheek. “She passed, _mijo.”_

And Lance had already been bracing himself for that but hearing it confirmed…

He swallowed thickly.

“B-before the invasion?”

Because as much as his siblings had joked about having to carry their home on their back to the Garrison, Lance knew it was not the lighthearted tale they made it out to be. They  had been fleeing home as the Galra invaded towards the Garrison where the majority of the forces and fighting were. They hadn’t known they would run into Veronica and a rebel group.

And the thought of Abuela, as strong and fierce as she was, navigating a battlefield…

“ _Sí_ ,” Mamá said softly. “ _Después_...” She trailed off, a flicker that Lance couldn’t place crossing her face.

“ _¿_ _Después_?” Lance repeated, something coiling in his stomach.

“ _No es importante_ ,” Mamá said, thumb caressing Lance’s cheek.

He pulled back.

She looked stricken.

“It, it was after I left, wasn’t it?” Lance whispered.

_Dios._

He’d killed his abuela.

No wonder no one had brought it up.

“The Garrison… they said you died. A training accident.” She leaned forward, capturing Lance’s face between both hands now. “We thought you had died, _mijo._ And Abuela… She had just lost Abuelo too and... and it was just too much.”

He’d killed Abuela.

“ _Lo siento,”_ Lance choked out.

“ _No disculpas, mijo. No es tu culpa.”_

Lance hiccuped on a sob.

“She passed peacefully,” Mamá whispered. “And I have no doubt she was watching over you on your journey in the stars, _su estrellito.”_

The nickname brought a heaving sob out that he could not contain any longer.

Abuela was dead.

Mamá’s thumbs ran over his cheeks, over the tears trickling down. “ _Está bien,”_ she murmured. “ _Está bien,_ Lance. _No más llanto ahora.  Ella no querría eso.”_

Lance just cried harder.

xxx

“I caught you!” Lance sing-songed, picking up a shrieking Nadia and swinging her over his shoulder.

“No no, put me down Tío!” she screeched with laughter.

Lance only wiggled his fingers against her stomach and her laughter increased.

As did her kicks.

One caught Lance in the chin and he lowered her to the playground area where he’d taken his niece and nephew as he knew this would be one of the last times to play with them since the Paladins were being summoned to a meeting tomorrow morning.

The respite was over.

It was back to war.

And…

And Lance wanted to go. He wanted to help, to fight, to save the universe.

There’d been a tension in the house when he’d it announced it at dinner a few nights ago.

They’d thought…

They’d all thought he was done fighting, the threat to Earth extinguished. Why must he return to space, to war?

Only Veronica had not protested and she’d quietly announced that she too was attending the meeting.

But for her it was different. The second oldest, an _adult_ in his family’s eyes, while he was the baby, the little brother and far, far too young to return to an intergalactic war. And telling his parents that he was going, that he had to do this, had been met with such sadness that for the past two days, despite knowing he would eventually be leaving again, Lance had avoided his family.

It made something sick and dark and painful fill his chest and he ran from it.

It seemed he was always running away these days.

Nadia’s laughter as she danced away from him brought him back to the present and he forced a grin upon his face.

“Oh no!” he gasped with mock horror. “It’s the tickle monster. Run, run for your lives!”

Nadia did so, kicking up sand with her haste but Sylvio remained where he was lying on the ground.

“Sylvio, didn’t you hear me?” Lance nudged him with his foot. “You have to run or the tickle monster is going to get you.”

And Lance was treated to the most deadpan stare of his entire life from a ten-year-old. “I’m too old for games like that, Tío Lance.”

Lance tried not to visibly deflate.

Tickle monster had always been Sylvio’s favorite, afternoons spent in shrieking laughter as they ducked around the house.

“Well,” Lance tried to keep the grin on his face, “what do ten-year-olds like to play?”

Sylvio gave an unhelpful shrug.

“Hide and go seek? Tag?” Lance suggested.

Head shakes.

“Oh!” Lance snapped his fingers. “How about _fútbol?_ I’m pretty sure there’s something we can use around here for a ball!”

“I don’t really like _fútbol_ anymore,” Sylvio said. “Sorry, Tío.”

“No, no, it’s all right.”

It wasn’t all right.

All of this was wrong. Sylvio had loved _fútbol,_ had told Lance he wanted to be a professional one day. They used to kick around a ball all the time.

He’d only been in space for a year but he’d missed out on four of Sylvio’s.

He’d missed out on watching his nephew, his niece, grow up.

He’d missed so much.

“Let’s collect your sister and head back, huh?” Lance said, trying not to let the sudden lump in his throat show. “Get lunch?”

“Kay,” Sylvio chirped, more animated with the promise of food.

Lance chased down Nadia, swung her onto his shoulders and felt a burst of gratitude that she let him, that she laughed and told him he was the “best pony ever,” and he’d broken into a trot at that, leaving Sylvio shouting indignantly in the dust.

If he ran fast enough then no one could see that he was crying.

xxx

Lance curled up against the bottom of the mesquite tree, the only one left standing in the Garrison’s previous blooming grove, and tried very, very hard not to cry.

He was fine.

He hadn’t just talked back to Mamá when she’d told him she didn’t want him returning to fighting, telling her he wasn’t a child anymore and she couldn’t stop him from doing this.

He hadn’t just pulled away from her attempted hug as she whispered brokenly that he was _her_ child and she could not lose him again.

He hadn’t just made her cry.

He hadn’t just told them that it was better this way, that he didn’t _fit_ anymore, that this way everything would go back to normal.

He hadn’t just batted away Papá’s hand when he reached for him or shoved Rachel out of the way when she’d gone to block the door.

But…

Lance pressed his hands over his mouth.

But he had.

He’d done all of those things.

_Dios._

What was wrong with him?

He just…

He didn’t…

Why was this so hard?

Footsteps sounded on the broken cobblestones and Lance tensed, trying to stifle the sobs that were wracking his shoulders.

He couldn’t face them right now.

He…

He was a _horrible_ son. A horrible brother.

Why  had he said those things?

Why had he made Mamá cry?

The footsteps stopped next to him.

Who was it?

Luis to scold him? Veronica to say quietly she understood, but…? Rachel to yell at him for upsetting Mamá? Marco to cajole him to come back?

A hand alighted on his shoulder, too small to be Marco’s or Luis’, and gave a gentle squeeze.

“Lance…” came a whisper of his name, the vowels elongated.

Only one person said his name like that.

“Ah-Allura,” he choked out, jerking his head up to see Allura looking down, hair highlighted by the dusky tones of sunset. “Wh-what are you, you doing here?”

She did not answer his question, instead sinking to her knees next to him, hand still warm on his shoulder in the too-big jacket that had never made Lance feel so small.

And before he could ask again, try to cover up the fact he had been _crying,_ Allura was leaning forward and wrapping him into a hug.

He couldn’t pull away even if he’d wanted to.

He gingerly raised his own arms up, resting them about her back and in response Allura tugged him even closer, one hand lifting to press against the back of his head and smooth through his hair.

“I saw your family on my evening stroll,” she said quietly.

Lance stiffened. They’d all come after him, apparently.

“They were very worried,” Allura continued, stroking his hair. “And upset. And scared.”

Lance wondered why she was telling him this.

He knew that.

He’d caused it.

“They were afraid they’d hurt you.”

Lance blinked.

What?

“No,” Lance protested, shifting to pull back but Allura tightened her hold. “N-no. They, they didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I’m, I’m the one who’s… who’s _wrong.”_

“Because you are not the boy they remember?” Allura asked gently.

Lance let out a low sob at that, at how true it was.

She released him from her hug but before he could withdraw she grabbed at his retreating hands, holding them tight between them.

“You have changed, Lance, that is true. We all have. War changes people. Time changes people. It changes our thoughts, our beliefs. It changes _us._ That does not make it wrong. It just makes it different.”

Lance shook his head. “I, I don’t fit, Allura. I thought… I thought when I got home everything would be… would be the same. But it’s not. They’re not. _I’m_ not. I’m ruining the family, I’m breaking them apart.”

“You have done no such thing,” Allura retorted, squeezing his hands. “Your family loves you, Lance. So, so much. They are proud, so proud, of the young man you have become. But… but it is hard for them, even with all they have seen, to see you put yourself in harm’s way. To know that you have fought before and will fight once more. They are scared. They do not want to lose you again.”

Her hands squeezed his again, gently. “It is hard to find one’s place after so much has changed. I,” her voice hitched, “I am still finding my place. I lost Altea. My home, my family, my friends. I found a new home, a new family, aboard the castle ship. But things have changed once more. The castle is gone, my family has reunited with their own loved ones and I am finding myself lost as to my place now.”

Lance’s eyes widened while his heart broke.

She… she thought they would leave her? Just because they were back on Earth now?

“Allura, no,” he whispered. “That’s… you, I…” he swallowed thickly, feeling his cheeks darken. “I’ll, I’ll always be here for you. I, I know the others will too. We’re… we’re still family.”

“Thank you, Lance,” she murmured, soft smile pulling her her lips. “That means much to me.”

Lance ducked his head.

“And the same can be said of your own,” she continued quietly. “You both may have changed but they love you, Lance, for who you are. Then, now and always. There will be some pain, some hurt, as you all navigate these changes. But you will always have a place with them.”

She reached their joined hands up, brushing them against his chest just above his heart. “You once called me the heart,” she murmured, “but I believe it is you who holds such a place in all of ours. And where there is a heart there is always a home.”

“Allura…”

Lance could feel hot tears pricking at his eyes again and he thought said heart might beat out of his chest.

He prayed she couldn’t feel that although by the amused turn of her lips she absolutely did.

“Now,” she rose and pulled Lance up with her with no effort at all before releasing him and Lance reached up and rubbed quickly at his eyes, “I believe it is time you were reunited with your family once more.”

And while Allura was smiling at him Lance could see the sadness behind it.

Lance reached out, capturing one of Allura’s hands. “Come with me.”

Jewel eyes widened. “I could not. You have but a few days left before we are to depart and—”

“Allura,” Lance interrupted her and she fell silent. “They would love to meet you. You’re,” he bobbed their hands, “family too.”

It was Allura’s turn to blush and a soft “oh,” escaped her.

“Then I would be honored,” she inclined her head. “They should be just past the bend.”

Because of course his family would wait for him, even when he was running away.

They would always be there for him.

His heart felt warm.

Lance walked in the indicated direction.

He did not let go of Allura’s hand.

The entire family was as Allura said,  and upon seeing him expressions brightened and softened as one.

Mamá stepped forward first. Her eyes were still red.

He’d done that.

Lance licked dry lips. “Mamá, I, I know you said no more apologies, but…”

“No, _mijo,”_ she murmured. “It is I who owes you one. Shh,” she held up a finger as Lance went to immediately protest. “ _Déjame hablar._ You are still my child. You always will be. But,” her hand lifted to cup his cheek, “you are no longer _a_ child. You are a Paladin, a hero. You have helped so many people and I know you will help so many more. And as much as it hurts me to see you put yourself in danger I know that you do so to help others, to protect us. And I could not be more proud of you.”

“Mamá,” Lance whispered, leaning into her touch.

He had her blessing, her support.

It meant everything.

“And you,” Mamá turned to Allura. “You are the space princess Allura I have heard much about,  yes?”

“Mamá,” Lance repeated, this time higher pitched and he heard Marco laughing behind, which only increased in volume as Lance dropped Allura's hand as though that could negate the action now. 

Allura inclined her head with a smile. “Yes, I am—”

Mamá cut her off with a hug, pulling both them both into her arms and knocking their heads gently together.

“Thank you for bringing my son back,” she whispered. “And..." she paused, swallowing. "Thank you for giving him a home.”

The words were heavy with their warmth.

Allura seemed at a loss in the face of such thanks, a first if Lance ever saw, but he couldn’t really say anything as his throat was treacherously thick.

“And now,” Mamá murmured, squeezing them both tight, “I open mine to you. Come. I… I wish to hear about yourself and your travels... and,” her voice lightened, teasing, “your relationship with my son.”

“Mamá!” Lance squeaked but Allura laughed with delight and to Lance’s horror she looped her arm through Mamá’s.

“I should tell you then of how we first met,” Allura said, eyes dancing. “It began with what I later learned was called a pick-up line…”

“That’s our Lancito,” Marco grinned as his family broke into peals of laughter and Lance was treated to a hair ruffle.

Lance grinned around it.

Things had changed yes.

But some things would always stay the same.

And no matter where he went, no matter what happened…

He would always have a home.

**Author's Note:**

> First prize from my fanart contest to the lovley Asterein. This fic was less about a plot and more about a feeling and we settled on the themes of “change” and “loss” in relation to “family” and I really had fun filling in some of those missing scenes and exploring Lance’s family. A lot of my personal headcanons made it in here too which always makes me a happy camper. Thank you for the beautiful art, Asterein, and I hope you enjoy your fic! ♥
> 
> I’d love to hear from you other lovely readers if you enjoyed it too. Don't just read/kudo and dash, please leave a comment with what you enjoyed about the fic below. A comment is the best way to tell an author thanks for the fic. I appreciate it! ♥


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